


To The End

by Flightlesskiwi



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Abstergo Industries, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Apple of Eden (Assassin's Creed), Awkward Family Moments, Desmond Miles Lives, Humor, M/M, Roadtrip, William Miles' A+ Parenting, the Apple gives you magic powers, throwing canon in the trash and doing whatever I want
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:46:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21886186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flightlesskiwi/pseuds/Flightlesskiwi
Summary: “His name is Desmond Miles, and he has brought us to the end.”On a school trip to Rome, Desmond and Rebecca uncover an artifact that changes everything and sets them on a mission to stop Abstergo and save the world.It’s a mission that involves running away from home; a road trip spanning four states; bad coffee; worse tea; the collision of history; the cruel hand of fate; three ancestral ghosts; a sixteen-year-old survivor; his techno wiz best friend and one grumpy British nerd. As it turns out, saving the world is easier said than done.
Relationships: Shaun Hastings/Desmond Miles
Comments: 38
Kudos: 90





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first multichapter fic! I finished this first chapter in November and have two more waiting to be published and we'll see how we go from there. This is sort of a fix-it but it's more just me doing whatever, oh and Desmond lives which is why I'm posting on the 21st!
> 
> A big big thanks to the wonderful [Boxofrogs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/boxofrogs/pseuds/boxofrogs) for encouraging me to keep writing and to the lovely [servalans-flowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/servalansflowers19/pseuds/servalansflowers19) for beta-ing the first two chapters! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Desmond tosses his last pair of socks in the direction of his case and scrambles to answer the video chat request that’s popped up on his laptop. It only takes a moment before Rebecca’s room appears on screen, its electric blue walls that she and Desmond painted last summer and a wide array of posters from terrible cult movies making a fitting backdrop to the teenage girl sitting in front of her PC, beanie over her head and a look of concentration in her eyes.

“Hey Becs, What’s up?” He asks, returning to his packing. A week's worth of clothes takes up a lot more space than he thought it would.

Rebecca makes a humming noise, half-listening as her fingers speed across the keyboard.

“Just calling to see when you’ll be ready to leave. Judging by the state of your room, I’d guess... Two days maybe?” Her eyes flick away from her second monitor to meet his and she gives him a cheeky grin. Desmond, gentleman that he is, flips her off. Mostly because she’s right, his room looks like a bomb site, there are clothes strewn across the floor and dirty dishes on most of the horizontal surfaces. His dad is not going to be pleased.

“Whatever, we can’t all have a housekeeper,” he snipes, bundling up some t-shirts from the floor and sniffing at them. At least one must be okay to pack.

“That’s not fair, I tidy my own shit and I’m pretty sure even a housekeeper couldn’t save you, Des.” Rebecca wrinkles her nose at him as he packs and folds two of the t-shirts. They passed the sniff test, and that’s good enough for him.

“Yeah, my dad will absolutely kill me if he sees this,” Desmond winces. He’s definitely going to have to tidy before Rebecca comes to pick him up, or at least chuck everything into his closet and hope his dad doesn’t open it while he’s away.

“I’ll come and get you-” There’s the sound of shouting from the distance and Rebecca cuts herself off with a flinch, untangling herself from her headphones and jumping up to close her bedroom door. Desmond watches in silence, packing momentarily abandoned for the sinking feeling he gets every time Rebecca has to hear her parents fight. No matter how regularly it happens, it always carves at his insides.

Rebecca smiles as she sits back down. The smile is plastic, though and her eyes are flinty.

“However soon you’ll be ready isn’t soon enough,” she sighs, repositioning her headphones and drawing her mic closer. “I’ll be there in an hour, okay? Be ready.”

“Sure thing,” he nods, and hesitates for a moment, the hollow space under his ribcage aches, before he adds. “You’re my best friend, Becs.” Rebecca visibly softens, her shoulders slump and her smile tilts into something more genuine.

“You’re my best friend too, sap,” She laughs and her shoulder rise up around her ears but her eyes are warm.

“I’ll see you in an hour, loser!” she crows, the screen going black as she signs off. Her joyful shout echoes in Desmond’s head as he returns to his packing, pleased that his energetic friend seems relatively unaffected by her parents’ routine bullshit.

He looks around and sighs. It’ll be close but he can probably get this tidy in an hour. Probably.

* * *

Half an hour later, his room is tidier - no doubt still falling short of Rebecca’s high standards- and his suitcase is packed. Desmond makes his way downstairs with a precariously balanced tower of plates, mugs and cups in one hand and his suitcase in the other. His dad is in the kitchen when he arrives.

Their house is old and the kitchen still has some traditional features, like the old aga cooker and creaky wooden floorboards. William is standing at the kitchen table plating up some bacon and he frowns as Desmond deposits his dishes in the sink.

“Really, Desmond?” He sighs, pulling out a chair at the table.

“Good morning to you too, Dad,” Desmond grumbles pulling on some gloves and filling the sink with soapy water. First thing his Dad has said to him this morning and it’s to complain about his cleaning habits. It’s depressingly in character.

William grumbles too, biting into his bacon with a moody look on his face. “At least you’re washing them,” he says, a very poor peace offering if you ask Desmond.

“Yeah, at least.” Desmond says, and turns back to the washing up. The two lapse into awkward silence, Desmond silently grousing inside his head, because, honestly, what is his dad’s problem? If he’s not nagging at him about his room, it’s his habits, or his grades or his stupid training regimen, he just won't cut him a single break, it’s like he thinks Desmond’s the second coming or something and is always disappointed when he doesn’t live up.

“So,” his dad takes a sip of his coffee and clears his throat, with his back to him Desmond rolls his eyes. “How’s the new training regime treating you?” He asks, just typical.

“Fine. Dad, it’s fine.” He says, forcefully scrubbing at a particularly stubborn stain. In truth, the training regime is a pain in the ass, no one actually needs to know how to climb a barn or be able to run five kilometres in ten minutes, but yeah, his dad is weird.

“There’s no need to take that tone.” William scolds, turning to glare at him disapprovingly.

“No, dad, I’m pretty sure there is, you know, maybe if I spent less time running in fields I’d be doing better at school, since that’s the other thing you love to get on my ass about!” Desmond responds, tossing the cup he was washing back into the sink and turning to face his dad.

“Well, if you want to talk about your grades-” His dad begins.

“Oh, here we go,” Desmond rolls his eyes, stripping off the rubber gloves.

“I just think you could be doing more, Desmond,” His dad says, and Desmond’s insides turn molten.

“Yeah I bet, when exactly? While I’m training three hours a day? When I’m at school? When you disappear for weeks for ‘work’?” He snarls.

His dad is standing now and the two of them are facing off right there in the kitchen.

“If you just tried harder- I just expect more from you Desmond!” His dad says, throwing up his hands in frustration, as though Desmond’s the one being unreasonable here.

“Yeah, well, I never asked you to!” It explodes out of him and he can feel his chest heaving as he takes deep breaths, trying to cool the fire that’s boiling beneath his skin, but the oxygen is just fueling the flames and he feels dizzy for a moment with the heat of it.

The doorbell rings. Desmond lets out a breath, his dad sighs and eases himself back into his chair. Desmond grabs his suitcase and stomps his way over to the door, yanking it open with enough force that the old hinges creak. Rebecca stands on the other side, slowly lowering her hand from where it had been poised to ring again and her eyes dart between Desmond and his father.

“Hey, Mr Miles,” she says, giving a little wave as Desmond walks past towards her jeep.

“Desmond,” His dad calls out, and Desmond stops, despite how much he really, really, doesn’t want to. “You’re more important than you know.” He says, his voice soft and Desmond feels a rush of confusion and resentment.

“Yeah, it sure fucking feels like it.” It should be satisfying to get the last word, but Desmond’s inside just feel like they’re on fire, his heart feels like it’s being gnawed away bit by bit. He walks off past Rebecca, pulling his suitcase behind him up the driveway.

“You two stay safe on that trip, alright?” his dad says. William is talking to Rebecca but even from a distance Desmond can feel his eyes on his back and hunches his shoulders to chase it away.

“Sure thing, Mr Miles,” Rebecca says, and closes the door with another little wave, leaving William to whatever he does when Desmond isn’t around to be disappointed with.

* * *

Rebecca joins Desmond a few minutes later, after he’s loaded his case into the trunk and the two of them sit in silence for a moment as she puts the key in the ignition and goes to speak.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He says, looking out the window at the swaying grass field.

“But I-” Rebecca starts, but he interrupts.

“Can we just go, Becs, please?” There must be something in his tone that convinces her because she nods slowly and they pull out of the drive. Desmond doesn’t look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always comments and kudos are appreciated if you like you can come talk to me on tumblr at [flightlesskiwi](https://flightlesskiwi.tumblr.com/) about shaundes and all things Assassin's Creed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desmond and Rebecca head to Rome, naturally, they find trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two is here! Gonna try and keep to a semi-regular update schedule but that’s already a bit of a mess so we’ll see, thanks to everyone who read and kudosed chapter one, thanks as always to the lovely [servelansflowers](%E2%80%9C) for being an absolute gift of a beta reader, and an especially big thanks to [Hellsinki](%E2%80%9C) for being the first to leave a comment. 
> 
> Tysm for all your support, enjoy!

The jolt of the plane hitting the tarmac wakes Desmond from his nap. They’ve been traveling for almost twenty-four hours and weariness has settled itself over the entire class, teachers included. Rebecca, her head resting on Desmond’s shoulder, remains undisturbed. He’s momentarily tempted to wake her just to make sure she’s alive but she lets out a soft snore and he’s reassured for the moment. She looks relaxed, in a way that’s weird to see on his usually animated friend. Her humour and energetic personality is like a magician’s trick, misdirection, to distract you from the fact that she’s hurting. That’s why they’re such good friends: Desmond forces her to be honest sometimes and in return she distracts him from his own shit.

The overhead seatbelt light dings off and he shakes Rebecca gently to wake her up. It doesn’t work, so he pinches her in the side instead. Rebecca jolts awake, her eyes darting back and forth rapidly before they settle on him.

“Ow! What the hell, Desmond?” she whines, rubbing at her side and glaring at him.

“Uh, we’re here?” He says, gesturing to the window, Rebecca blinks sleepy, her jaw cracking around a yawn.

“Huh, so we are. Onwards and upwards then, Des.” She says cheerfully, smacking him on the arm hard enough to bruise. While he’s busy rubbing his injured arm, Rebecca’s already standing on her tiptoes and grabbing her duffel bag from the overhead storage. Desmond shakes his head. It’s hard to believe she was asleep a minute ago but then, that’s just Rebecca.

* * *

They arrive at the hostel where the school has rented rooms a short while later, both tired despite their nap on the plane. It’s the sort of tiredness that sinks into your bones and makes every horizontal surface look extremely comfortable.

The teacher commands them off into different rooms and Rebecca’s expression sours.

“This is stupid,” She huffs, hawling her duffle bag higher as she stomps down the corridor with Desmond trailing behind her.

“It’s not like we’re gonna sex it up! No offence, Desmond, but you’re not really my type.” She says with a smirk.

Desmond snorts, “Yeah, that’s cause your type is women.”

Rebecca nods with a smirk and heads to her own room down the hall. “See you in the morning, Desmond.” She calls back over her shoulder, her duffle bag bouncing on her shoulder.

“Night,” he responds, raising his hand in a pointless gesture of goodbye, and makes his way to his own room.

* * *

Desmond wakes up the next morning to the sun streaming in through the window and someone pounding on the door. He sits up quickly, his head colliding with the bottom of the bunk above his, and lets out a string of curses, disoriented from waking up somewhere unfamiliar and grouchy about his injury. Above him his roommate Daniel lets out a groan, even though he doesn’t like him, Desmond shares the sentiment.

The pounding comes to a stop when he yanks the door open, Rebecca and their teacher are on the other side, Rebecca with her fist raised, frozen mid knock. Daniel pokes his head up from the top bunk, sighs loudly, and lies back down.

“Morning, Des,” She chirps, brushing past him and into his room. Their teacher just rolls her eyes.

“Behave yourself, Rebecca. Everyone is to be down at the bus for nine, if you’re late you get left behind.” And she heads off down the corridor to wake more students.

“Sure thing, Ms. De la Cruz!” Desmond calls after her, closing the door and turning to Rebecca with a frown. She’s lying on his bed, messing with something on her phone, already fully dressed and far too chipper for someone who’s awake before nine. Desmond groans at her silently and moves to get dressed, Rebecca smirks and looks back at her phone, the two of them settling into familiar silence.

“What’s so great about the Colosseum that we have to be up at eight thirty anyway?” Desmond complains, now dressed in his white hoodie with his bag slung over one shoulder. Rebecca laughs and leverages herself up from the bed. Somewhere in between Rebecca arriving and desmond getting dressed Daniel had disappeared to wherever moody douchebags go. Yeah, Desmond was not a fan of Daniel.

“It’s history, Desmond! Bloody, violent, overdramatic history, which is the best kind!” She says sounding almost like she’s quoting someone, Rebecca swings open the door and Desmond follows after her rolling his eyes.

“Still not worth waking up at eight AM.” He says, closing the door and following Rebecca to the bus.

* * *

The colosseum is actually pretty impressive, Desmond can admit. For one thing, it’s huge, towering walls overshadowing everyone inside. It looks more like a fortress than an arena. They follow the tour guide further and further down into the ‘hypogeum’ or the bit that has creepy underground dungeon vibes. It’s actually all pretty interesting and Desmond finds himself getting caught up in the history of the place, the gladiators that battled there, the people that had lived there, eras of history unfolding as the tour guide speaks.

Rebecca smacks him on the shoulder and he snaps out of his daydream to look at her as she gazes off into a shadowy corridor.

“What?” he hisses. He doesn’t want to disturb the tour and whatever Rebecca wants is doubtlessly going to get them both in trouble.

“Look down there,” She gestures to the dark corridor, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“It’s cornered off.” He says, stating the obvious with a sinking feeling in his gut. The feeling only gets worse when Rebecca wraps a hand around his arm.

“I bet there’s some cool shit down there,” She’s already slowing them both down, so that they’re at the back of the group.

“It’s probably just, I don’t know, spiders and falling rocks, Becs. Just leave it,” He insists, trying to free his arm from her iron grip.

“But aren’t you curious? What if there’s skeletons or something awesome?”

She’s practically bouncing up and down as she looks at him pleadingly. Desmond looks at her, then into the dark, and sighs.

“I guess?” He says, face twisting into something that’s supposed to look interested and excited but probably looks like he’s got gas. Rebecca is not bothered. Shifting her grip on his arm, she drags him off into the dark, towards whatever adventure she’s cooked up in her brain and probably a bunch of rocks and weird bugs.

They slip under the orange tape over the entrance to the corridor and past the sign that reads ‘no unauthorised personnel’ in Italian, French and English, and they’re off on their own private adventure, one that Desmond thinks is actually going to be pretty boring.

They wander in the dark for a while, Rebecca’s phone torch lighting their way so that they don’t fall and break their ankles. It turns out Desmond was right. It actually is incredibly boring.

“Wow, Becs, you were right. I’m having so much fun looking at another identical piece of rock, how exciting.” They’re gonna be in so much trouble over this and it’s definitely not worth it.

Rebecca frowns at him, annoyed that he’s pointing out the obvious.

“Shut up Desmond! Adventures can’t be all excitement, all the time! sometimes there’s boring bits in between.”  
Rebecca’s walking backwards as she gears herself up to make another weird speech. Desmond reaches forward, just in case his adventurous friend trips on the uneven floor.

“Yeah, sure, I definitely remember that from -” The light from Rebecca’s phone goes out.

“Ow, fuck!”

“Shit, Rebecca, you okay?” Desmond calls out into the dark. He can hear shuffling noises from the place where he last saw her and Rebecca reappears, illuminated by her torch light.

“Yeah, fine,” She rubs at the back of her head and turns around to shine her light on whatever she just walked backwards into. “Just walked into this. Thought it was a wall, definitely not a wall.”

Desmond looks up. Cast in the harsh white glow of Rebecca’s torch is a large smooth stone wall. He walks towards it. Oddly, it feels like walking in a dream, like his feet aren’t his own, the image hazy, familiar and unfamiliar all at once. As he steps up next to Rebecca, there's a flash of bright light and strange symbols reveal themselves, pulsing gently. Rebecca sighs in amazement and turns off her phone.

“I told you we’d find something awesome.” She breathes, voice barely above a whisper, as though afraid to disturb something, afraid to wake it from its sleep. Desmond’s barely listening, too absorbed in the symbols, in their gentle pulsating light. He feels like he can understand them. Maybe he can, because something in the back of his mind is whispering, telling him to reach out, to touch.

He extends a hand, ignoring Rebecca as she hisses his name, and lays his palm against the stone. It’s cool and smooth to the touch. For a moment, nothing happens, there’s just silence and him and Rebecca holding their breaths. Then there’s a noise like the earth is splitting, and Desmond feels a rush of fear and stumbles back, thinking the tunnels about to collapse. Instead, the stone wall shudders, and begins to rise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hypogeum at the Colosseum is cool as heck, I don’t know if you can actually go down there but this is me living vicariously through Rebecca and Desmond. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated <3 and you can find me on tumblr at [flightlesskiwi](%E2%80%9C) yelling about my love for Desmond Miles and occasionally talking about fic <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desmond and Rebecca venture inside the vault, Desmond has an encounter of the Isu kind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter three is here! As always thanks to [serv](%E2%80%9C) for her mad beta reading skills, any errors are my own. Thanks as well to everyone who has stuck with things this far! This chapter is when things start getting... interesting for our Desmond. Enjoy!

The chamber beyond the door is a deep inky black, with no light aside from what Desmond and Rebecca bring with them as they step inside. Desmond can’t help but feel exposed. Even though they can’t see it, there’s a feeling of vast emptiness on all sides and a caverness roof overhead. It makes him feel small, and he shuffles a little closer to Rebecca, searching for some kind of instinctual comfort that he can’t quite name. Rebecca reaches back, and takes a white-knuckled grip on his wrist. He can’t see her face anymore - her torch shines on the ground and the chamber seems to swallow light- but he can hear her teeth chattering. Whether it’s from the cold or from fear, he doesn’t know, but he takes her hand and the two of them walk on. 

It takes them a while to reach anything of interest, and by then they’ve both relaxed a little more. The chamber is still frigid but the darkness feels less like impending threat and more like an embrace the further they walk. 

“This place is kinda busted,” Rebecca notes, kicking a loose pebble and listening as the echo ripples through the cavern. Desmond looks down at the path beneath their feet. It’s made from the same smooth stone as the door but Rebecca is right: long cracks run across its surface and several chunks have crumbled away to nothing. 

“Whatever this is, seems like it’s older than the Colosseum,” Desmod says, his breath catching in his chest. If something happens to them both down here he’s not even sure anyone would find them. Whatever this place is, it hasn’t had visitors in a very long time. Rebecca is saying something about dates and architecture when a flash of reflected light catches Desmond’s eye. He hushes her, and reaches out to grab her wrist, searching for the golden reflection he’d just seen. 

“There!” Rebecca pulls her arm loose and gestures a few meters in front of them. They can’t make out much in the torchlight, but Desmond can see a square stone pillar. On top of it sits the thing that had caught his eye: a golden orb, nestled unassumingly in a groove in the stone. Desmond stumbles forward, his feet seemingly moving on their own. 

“Awesome,” He hears Rebecca say, but it’s like hearing underwater. “Do you think it’s some kind of treasure?” She asks, stepping up beside him and gazing at the orb with curiosity. It barely registers. Just like before Desmond imagines he can almost hear a voice calling out to him, telling him to reach, his body feels like someone else's, his mind barely feels like his own. He hesitates, arm out, fingers barely an inch from the surface of the orb. Rebecca looks at him with concern. He thinks he hears her say his name, but his hand is already moving forward. He touches the orb. 

It feels like fire coursing through his bones; like living and dying all at once; like hearing a cacophony of noise and hearing silence; like seeing for a thousand miles and being blind; like moving impossibly fast and impossibly slow; like the taste of blood and the taste of fresh water. It feels like a thousand years and like one second, and then it feels like nothing at all.

* * *

Rebecca moves forward to stop him but Desmond’s hand is already on the orb, she’s blinded by a bright flash of light. When she blinks the spots from her eyes her best friend has passed out on the floor, the strange golden orb glowing in his hand. 

* * *

Desmond wakes up to a void. It’s not like in the chamber though. That felt like open space. Here it’s more like everything is made of smoke, nebulous and difficult to grasp. Oh, right, in reality he’s passed out on the floor after being roofied by an ancient artifact. Rebecca must be shitting her pants. He feels half guilty and half vindicated at the thought. He’d told her they shouldn’t wander off.

He stands up. The floor, if it can be called a floor, is made of shifting black... something, and seems to stretch on forever. Desmond starts to move forward, catching vagues shapes in the all-encompassing dark and figuring that moving towards them is better than just staying here. If this is his dreamscape or mind palace or whatever, it’s kind of fucked up. He’d never figured his Dad’s training would come in handy but the ‘controlling adrenaline and not losing it when shit goes sideways’ part is actually pretty useful. Especially when you’re potentially going insane. 

There’s a chuckle from behind him and a voice says. “You are not insane, Desmond Miles.” 

He jumps, he’s man enough to admit It.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Desmond yelps. He whips around and there behind him is a woman taller than him, dressed in flowing robes and wearing a strange headpiece. There’s something strange about her, something unnatural and much like the rest of his weird dreamscape she occasionally fluctuates and flickers as Desmond watches her warily. 

She ignores his outburst, as she looks at him, scrutinising. It feels like she’s looking through him, or beyond him. Either way he feels small, but not insignificant, under her gaze. 

“I am Minerva, and this is not a dream.”

* * *

Okay, so, Rebecca is panicking. It’s been at least ten minutes and nothing’s changed. Desmond’s still lying there, now with her jacket rolled up under his head. She would have thought he was dead if it wasn’t for the steady rise and fall of his chest and his eyes rolling about behind his eyelids. She’s officially started freaking out. Part of her wants to run for help but the other part doesn’t want to leave Desmond here, alone in the dark. So she’s just pacing back and forth next to her completely comatose best friend, definitely a good look if someone comes to find them, which no one will because they snuck off without telling anyone. 

Rebecca sits down on the hard rock with a thud that runs straight up her spine. She just needs a minute, to clear her head. Desmond will come out of this, whatever it is, he’s much stronger than he seems. He has to be.

* * *

In his not-dream, Desmond snorts. “Not a dream, and I'm not losing it, what exactly is this then?” he asks skeptically. This big lady is setting off all of his alarm bells. He instinctively feels like he should run and hide.

“A warning,” Minerva says, and Desmond feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, yeah, this is not good. She sighs and suddenly she looks less alien and more tired. 

“You are right to be wary, Desmond. I would explain more but at the moment we do not have much time.”    
  


As she says this her image flickers violently, almost disappearing before she seems to wressle whatever issue is causing it back under control.

“What you call an orb others call an Apple of Eden, it enables me to communicate with you across time and space.” Minerva says.

Okay, Desmond really should call bulshit right now, except he just touched an orb that threw him into the Twilight Zone. Receiving a reality-breaking phone call is just another small portion of weird on top of an already really weird day. 

“This would normally be a feat of great difficulty and cost but, Desmond, the lineage of time is broken.It is Juno’s doing, she is attempting to break free from her prison by creating tears in the fabric of time. Aiding her are those you will come to know as Templars.” 

Minerva is moving towards him now and he takes a stumbling step back, not afraid of her as such, but the way she moves, the look in her eyes and the tone of her voice all speak of desperation. And desperate people are capable of some scary things. Still, saving time itself is a bit of a tall order.

“Okay, hold on, you’re saying that because I touched some orb - Apple, whatever - now I have to save all of reality? Can’t you, I dunno, give the Apple to someone else? No offence, but I’m a seventeen year old kid, I’m not exactly qualified to save the world!” he says, gesturing towards himself. He wonders briefly what Minerva is seeing: a kid in a grubby white hoodie and beat-up sneakers who was dumb enough to touch the Apple and get himself tangled up in all of this. 

“No. It has to be you,” she says, and her voice is even more frantic now, another flicker overtakes her distorting her words. “It’s destined this way.” 

“What? Why?” He already knows he won't get an answer., The not-dreamscape glitches in time with Minerva and now that he’s looking it seems to almost be peeling away. If he thought it was empty before, the true nothingness it leaves behind as it disappears is worse. He suddenly understands Minerva’s desperation a lot more as she moves towards him. There’s sorrow in her eyes but also a steely resolve, and he has the distinct sense of a door swinging shut. There’s no going back from this, it doesn’t matter whether he wants it or not. 

“You are a remarkable young man, Desmond. I’m sorry.” Then she disappears. 

* * *

Rebecca’s pretty much sailed past all the other stages of grief to depression. This is not how she thought it would go. To be honest, she’s always been more of a fighter than that. But she’s alone and it’s dark and Desmond’s still largely comatose, except that he’s now started to mumble the odd word here and there. It’s sort of making it worse because he’s mostly just saying things like “no” and “why” which as a connoisseur of b-list horror movies she knows is a bad sign. Yup, they’ve pretty much sailed right over rock and landed in a hard place with this one. She’s not blaming herself though. Okay, maybe a little. It was her idea to go down here in the first place. Still, she didn’t  _ make  _ Desmond touch the stupid nightmare orb, that dumbass decision was all his. Rebecca sighs, and thumps her head back against the pillar. She’s been staring into the dark so long she’s started seeing shapes in it, vague lines and distorted figures. She pokes Desmond with her toe. He doesn’t even twitch, she sighs again. 

“You gotta wake up soon, Des,” She whispers aloud into the eerie quiet. “I’m pretty sure it’s not healthy for me to be left alone with my thoughts this long.”

* * *

Minerva disappears and next thing Desmond knows, he’s running. Whoever or whatever she was, Minerva was the linchpin holding the whole place together. As soon as she’s gone, it starts collapsing in on itself. With Desmond stuck inside. Of course. 

He doesn’t think too much about it, because if he stops to think he’ll fall into the nothingness behind him and he means that literally. He’s just running, one foot in front of the other, as fast as he can. The only problem is that, even after Minerva leaves, the glitches don’t stop. In fact, they seem to have gotten worse. Desmond thinks he can see things now, a moment where the nebulous black under his feet gives way to roof tiles or cobblestone. 

He keeps going. The longer he runs the worse it gets, like it’s a side effect to oxygen deprivation, except he doesn’t even know if there’s oxygen in here. He’s Desmond Miles and he’s running, running across rooftops in Venice, through the forests in Mohawk Valley, along a parapet in Masyaf, and he doesn’t know how he knows these places except that he does, deep in his bones. Then he jumps from a rooftop, off a cliff, from the parapet and he wakes, gasping, before he hits the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always you can find me on [tumblr](https://flightlesskiwi.tumblr.com/) where I recently posted some covers for this fic! I promise Shaun will make an appearance sometime soon. Music that I listened to while writing this chapter was Ezio’s Family, naturally.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rebecca and Desmond get to grips with Desmond’s new powers, cue training montage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So firstly, I’m so sorry this took so long! It turns out real life is not very conducive to fic writing, who knew? 
> 
> As always thanks to Serv for being an absolute angel and being patient with my hectic schedule, and tanks so much to all of you for the same (as an apology this one’s on the longer side).

The darkness feels like it’s closing in on Rebecca, suffocating her. She feels tired and short of breath, even though she hasn’t moved since she sat down next to Desmond’s unconscious body. She closes her eyes and tries to even out her breathing. Everything will be fine, Desmond will wake up any minute. 

Next to her, Desmond gasps and sits up, his eyes darting to and fro without really seeing. Rebecca’s chest loosens with relief and she rushes to kneel at his side, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

“You’re okay, Desmond, you’re okay.”

She’s not sure who the reassurances are for exactly, but they seem to work well enough, Desmond’s eyes settle on her as he frowns and reaches for his head. 

“Ugh,” he says, eloquently. “What the hell happened?” All of her emotions from the past ten minutes come welling up and boil over.

“I’ll tell you what happened, you scared the absolute crap out of me, that’s what! Why the hell did you touch that weird orb?” 

“Apple, and I- I don’t know, I just felt like I had to, like I was meant to, Becs. I don’t know how to explain it.” Desmond feels tense under her hand, he looks confused and a little scared. Rebecca’s anger drains, replaced by concern and the urge to comfort him. 

She sighs. 

“It’s fine, whatever just happened, we’ll figure this out okay? I’ve got your back.” She says, taking his arm to pull him to his feet, she sees the orb, apple, whatever.

“You’re bringing it with you?” She asks, trying not to sound judgemental. Desmond looks oddly fragile right now, like he’s full of hairline fractures and and one push will cause him to shatter. 

“Yeah, I uh, think I have too.” Desmond says, sounding wobbly as he stuffs the Apple into his hoodie pocket. “Now lets head back before they come looking for us.”

* * *

They rejoin the group without trouble. They hadn't really been gone that long and no one really noticed they weren’t there. The rest of the tour, though, is hell. Whatever the Apple has done to him has sharpened his senses unbearably: all the noises are too loud, the lights are too bright, alarm bells start going off in his head every time someone so much as brushes up against him. The whole thing feels like being wrapped up in the world’s most overstimulating blanket. 

Rebecca catches on while they’re walking around the Roman Forum. She reaches for his arm to show him something and Desmond flinches back like she’s just waved a hot poker at him. She looks hurt for a moment before it smooths into concern. 

“Alright there, Des?” She asks quietly, Rebecca wraps her hand around his arm and it’s like a tether, it grounds him in the moment and he can appreciate the sound of the crowd, the Italian sun shining on his face, the smell of grass under the tourists’ feet.

He smiles, closing his eyes and taking it in. “‘M fine Rebecca, just fine.”

* * *

“Ow, Becs,  _ ow _ .” 

“Ugh, just hold still. There, how's that?” Rebecca’s question is muffled by the earplugs Desmond has shoved in his ears but he blinks, opening his eyes to soft darkness, the fabric of the sleep mask smooth against his face. He’s sitting on the floor of Rebecca’s hostel room, her roommate thankfully elsewhere. 

“Better,” he sighs. Everything is easier now that he doesn’t have to process it all at once. The barriers between him and the rest of the world have muffled it, but not as much as he would like. He can hear Rebecca flop back onto her bed and feel the vibration through the floor as the bed frame rattles. 

“What the hell is going on, Desmond?” Rebecca asks with audible distress. It's a good question, one he wishes he had the answer to. Instead, they’re both left with his best guess. 

“Don’t know exactly. This is probably something to do with the Apple though, right?” He turns towards it. Even with the blindfold on he knows where it is, he can feel it. It radiates power, like the vague and frightening energy surrounding Minerva. Rebecca sighs, and Desmond can hear her scrubbing at her beanie in frustration. 

“So what, you’ve been magically chosen to be the next Steve Jobs?” She says snarkily. Desmond hears a swish of fabric and his arm shoots out, almost of its own accord. His hand wraps around Rebecca’s wrist just when she’s about to poke the Apple. 

“Don’t.” He warns, and can practically hear Rebecca roll her eyes. He gets it, really, the whole thing is ridiculous and he doesn’t really have any idea what he’s doing. In fact, if it hadn’t been for his meeting with Minerva earlier he probably would have left the Apple back in that cave where they’d found it. He’d recounted the whole thing to Rebecca in hushed tones as they’d walked around the forum but she doesn’t seem to understand how serious this is. 

“You don’t get it,” he groans. “I’m not asking you to understand, Rebecca, I just-“ He breaks off with a sigh. Everything feels jumbled. It’s like every cell in his body itches, making it hard to think. He feels hyper alert, every shift and change in the air a potential threat. “I need you to be with me in this, I need your help.” 

Rebecca sighs again, and he can feel her kneel down in front of him on the floor so that they’re eye to eye. She takes a steady breath and places her hand on top of his. 

“Of course I’ll help, Desmond. You’re my best friend and you just got freaking super powers, it’s a best friend law!”

* * *

Asking Rebecca for help might have been a mistake. 

Right now her “helping” looks more like the two of them breaking back into the Roman Forum after dark. Desmond’s newly developed “spidey-sense” (as they’ve started to call it) helps them sneak past the nighttime security fairly easily: he seems to know when guards are approaching and when it’s safe to sneak past on instinct. From there it’s a simple matter of finding a climbable part of the fence and they’re in. 

Without the bustling crowds and the light of day the Forum falls into an uneasy slumber, the moonlight draws out shadows, twisting them into figures and faces, the ghosts of the centuries of living history that these buildings have seen. Desmond’s shoulders feel lighter as soon as he jumps down from the fence. He, too, feels like a ghost. It feels like he’s existing separately from everyone else, hearing things they can’t hear and seeing things they can’t see. 

Desmond’s drawn away, further into the Forum, following paths that he feels like he’s walked many times before, his feet barely making a sound on the worn stone.

He finds himself in a rectangular space, walls lined with statues in various states of disrepair. The moonlight streams down from overhead, reflecting off the polished stone and illuminating the surrounding rose bushes.

Behind him, Rebecca sucks in a breath. “It’s beautiful,” she says softly, reaching up to caress the cold stone of a statue. Desmond finds himself unable to speak, as though doing so will break some kind of spell. 

Fortunately, Rebecca has no such problems. She flashes him a sharp smile and he barely has time to dodge out the way as she lobs a tennis ball at his head.

“Where did you even get a tennis ball?!” He asks, in exasperation. Rebecca just laughs, unrepentant, and pulls another ball out of her backpack. 

“Catch or dodge, hero.” Then she throws it, Desmond ducks, choking back a laugh. 

“What the hell, Rebecca?” He gasps, jogging over to pick up one of the balls. He hears the barely audible hiss of air resistance and turns to catch Rebecca’s third attempt at pelting him in the face with a tennis ball. 

“Catch!” She throws another, hitting him squarely in the chest.

“Or!” This one he catches, just before it hits him in the face.

“Dodge!” The last one is aimed at his feet and he jumps up, breaking into a run to escape Rebecca’s apparently never ending barrage of balls.

* * *

Under the light of the full moon Rebecca puts Desmond through his paces, they climb on ancient monuments and run through fields of old stone. It reminds him of his training at home, only this time it’s actually fun. Rebecca keeps pelting him, and he returns fire, ducking and hiding amongst the ruins.

At one point, Rebecca pulls him into a game of tag. She runs across the ground, winding her way through the remains of old walls and the broken pillars. Instincts Desmond didn’t know he had take over, and he stalks her from above, dancing along crumbling walls, following the sound of her feet on the grass and her laughing gasps for breath. He looms over from above and those same instincts whisper  _ jump.  _

Desmond leaps. He lands on Rebecca’s back and her knees buckle, sending them both crashing to the grass below. He groans in pain, and hears Rebecca echo the sentiment.They roll onto their backs, panting for breath. Rebecca takes a swing at him, hitting him in the chest. Yeah, Desmond figures he deserves that. 

He is still trying to work out exactly what happened. It was the same reaction as when Rebecca was about to touch the Apple: some kind of muscle memory took over, only it wasn’t Desmond’s memory. Everything gets slightly fuzzy, a little out of sync. As though what his senses are telling him is one image and what is real is another and two images are overlaid but not quite matching up. 

Still, it’s nice. With the dark of night slowly fading to the grey of pre-dawn, Desmond feels the restlessness that has haunted him since he touched the Apple fade away, his chest feels light and dewy grass is cool against his back. 

“Thanks,” he says, looking up at the slowly fading moon to avoid Rebecca’s eyes that he can feel on the side of his face. 

“I already told you, best friend law.” Rebecca says, now also looking at the moon. Weirdly, Desmond thinks of his dad, of how, when his mom’s away sometimes William just sits out on the porch until dawn, watching the moon rise and set. He wonders if he does it when Desmond’s gone too. 

“Yeah, but I could have been going crazy or something, and you broke into the fucking Roman Forum with me.” There’s the sliding sound of hands through wet grass, and Rebecca takes his hand in hers. 

“I saw enough proof,” she says, and Desmond guesses she’s thinking about his unconscious body in the cave under the colosseum or when he froze up at the Forum later that day. “Besides, whatever this is, your grand destiny or whatever, it’s not going to be over when we get back. You’ll need me.” Desmond can hear the smirk in her voice, he’s tempted to disagree, but if history has proven anything it’s that Desmond Miles needs Rebecca Crane. 

“Sure,” he rejoins, filling it with as much doubt as he can. “Who else is going to pelt me with tennis balls at two am.” 

Rebecca laughs, and for a moment there’s no school trip, no shitty parents, no grand and foreboding destiny. Just the two of them, being the dumb idiot kids they’ve always been.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay listen, I swear Shaun is in this next chapter! I swear! Desmond and Rebecca just really don’t want to give up their bro time. Songs for this chapter are Mess Around by Cage The Elephant and Alright by Supergrass for all your teenage training montage needs.
> 
> As always I’m on tumblr at flightlesskiwi reblogging and occasionally writing posts. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, safety and peace to you all!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desmond and Rebecca return to South Dakota, Desmond dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so so _sorry_ this took so long, uni has been an absolute mess of deadlines and projects at the moment and to top it all off I fell ill just as I was hoping to get time to finish off this chapter! 
> 
> As always a huge thanks to Serv Who is an angel without wings, and sometimes tricks me into thinking I might actually be funny.
> 
> This chapter things get a little weird, enjoy!

The jolt of the plane hitting the tarmac knocks Desmond out of the trance he’d been in. He’s wearing Rebecca’s sleep mask and blasting music in his ears, the sights and sounds of the cabin still too much for his senses. They’d stayed in Rome for another five days after the incident with the Apple. In that time Desmond and Rebecca had managed to get more of a handle on his powers. Crowds still weren’t his strong suit, but with Rebecca acting as an anchor point he could manage. His reactions were faster, his stamina greater and his sense of hearing, sight, smell and touch were all improved. Sometimes it even felt like he could sense people’s intentions, but Rebecca said that he was probably just imagining it. All in all, it had certainly made the plane ride interesting. He hadn’t dared to even look in the direction of the plane food. 

He’s relieved to be home more than anything. The hustle and bustle of Italy’s capital made him long for the isolated tranquility of the farm. Hell, he even missed William. His dad tended to have a level head in a crisis, and he’d probably be pretty siked to find out his son had superpowers. Shit, okay, he can't tell his dad about this. William is a lot of things, some of them good, and some of them not so good. Desmond doesn’t totally trust him not to feel like he has to report his son’s new found freakiness to the authorities, or to turn it to his own advantage. Demond sighs. So much for impressing his dad for once. 

Next to him, Rebecca looks up from where she’s already typing away on her phone and nudges him. 

“C’mon man, stop brooding and let's get off this plane.” She says, pulling the sleep mask up off his eyes. 

“I wasn’t brooding,” Desmond pouts, stepping into the aisle and retrieving their bags from overhead. Rebecca gives him a dubious look as she takes her duffle bag from him. 

“I wasn’t!” It’s definitely less convincing than he wants it to be. 

* * *

The drive home is quiet. Both of them are jet lagged and grappling with everything that’s happened since they were last in South Dakota. They definitely aren’t the same kids they were before this week, before the Apple, before Minerva and her grand suggestions of destiny. 

He sort of misses it. The lack of weight on his shoulders, the way he and Rebecca could just waste time doing nothing, how easy it was to just breathe. Crazy abilities aren’t as fun as he thought they’d be. Figures. 

Desmond’s looking out the window without really seeing so he doesn’t notice when they roll up to the farm. Rebecca rolls her eyes and pokes him in the arm, making him jolt.

“We’re here, dumbass.” She sighs, leaning forward against the steering wheel. She looks tired.ate nights and jet lag have really kicked their asses. Desmond feels a pang of guilt. 

“Yeah, I’ll text you later.” He says, opening the door to Rebecca’s jeep.

“You’d better,” Rebecca drums her fingers on the steering wheel as she watches him climb out, her brow crinkled.

“And Desmond? Good luck.” She grins and next thing Desmond knows, it’s him and his suitcase alone on the dirt track.

* * *

“Hey dad, I’m home!” Desmond calls out. He is planning to bypass any kind of more elaborate greeting and pass out on his bed, but William, who can never let Desmond have anything his own way, materialises in the kitchen, a cup of coffee in his hand and a large manilla folder under his arm. Desmond’s stomach lurches a bit. The homesickness that had followed him in Rome dissipates quickly, followed by nervousness. 

His dad’s face is twisted up in a look of pleased surprise that it clearly doesn’t know what quite to do with. Desmond abruptly remembers the argument they’d had before he left. It’s funny how it feels like it was a hundred years ago now.

“Welcome home, son.” William says, clearing his throat. He puts the manila folder on the table, turning his full concentration on Desmond, who cannot help but fidget slightly. He feels as though the changes of the past week must be stamped on his forehead, exposed under his father’s shrewd gaze.

“Good trip?” His dad asks, scratching at the back of his neck. They don’t usually do small talk. Desmond breathes an internal sigh of relief. Their last fight must still be at the front of his dad’s mind. William will tread lightly for now. 

“Yeah, it was good, lots of old buildings, and history and stuff y’know.” Desmond says, feeling equally as awkward in the still wariness of the kitchen.

“Anyway, I’m beat - jet lag and stuff - so I’m gonna head to bed.” He adds, gesturing towards the stairs with the hand not holding his suitcase.

“Sure, sleep well.” His dad practically coughs, and Desmond nods, stumbling up the stairs in his attempt to escape as quickly as possible. 

  
  


Once he’s in his room Desmond barely toes out of his shoes and wriggles out of his jeans before collapsing onto his bed in a tired heap. He rolls over, throwing a hand across his eyes to block out the afternoon sun. The tension of the last few days sloughs off him in the quiet serenity of his bedroom, still the same even after everything. The same posters on the wall, the same comic books and DVDs on his shelves, his laptop still where he left it on his desk. The mess that he’d hidden in his closet is probably still there as well. He relaxes into the familiarity and before long his eyes are slipping shut and he’s drifting into sleep. 

* * *

He wakes with the distinct feeling that he’s not awake at all. It’s weird, but before he’s even opened his eyes he knows this is still a dream, or something like it. The lines between the waking and sleeping world have been a bit too blurred for him lately. 

Unlike when he spoke with Minerva, this dreamscape, or whatever, is a soft white, with lines of grey lancing through it and then fading away. Desmond can’t help but groan as he sits up. He just wanted a nap, for god’s sake. 

There’s a chuckle to his left and when Desmond turns there’s a figure there, dressed in red and white robes and looking remarkably casual for a man appearing in someone else's dream. 

His skin is sun-kissed and his face is handsome and kind. When he speaks it’s with a warm and lilting accent that Desmondhas come to know as uniquely Italian. 

“You are somehow shorter than I expected.”

He says it musingly, as though not looking for Desmond to comment, which is good, because the only phrase in Desmond’s head right now is  _ What the ever loving fuck _ . 

Something must show on his face, however, because the Italian man chuckles as he reaches down to offer Desmond a hand..

“I am Ezio Auditore,” he says it with no small amount of pride, and an air of expectancy, as though he expects Desmond to gasp in recognition as he’s pulled to his feet. “It is nice to meet you, Desmond.” 

Ezio’s grip twists and they are clasping each other’s forearms in greeting. This too has that alien feel of muscle memory, like Desmond had done it before , only in an alternate universe.

“How do you know my name?” He asks, his grip tightening on Ezio’s forearm in a way that makes the other man’s face twist in surprise before he gives a pleased nod. Desmond lets his arm drop, and takes a step back, waiting expectantly.

“I am your past, just as you are my future.” Ezio says, because, Desmond thinks snarkily, that’s not cryptic at all.

“However, it’s also mostly Minerva’s doing.” Ezio holds up his other hand. There, resting snugly in his palm is an Apple, identical in size and shape to the one tucked under Desmond’s pillow in the real world. 

“She risks alerting Juno if she keeps contacting you,” Ezio explains, his voice slightly distant as he moves his thumb back and forth across the golden surface of the Apple.“So she reached back in your timeline and sent us in her place.” 

Desmond’s mind reels for a moment with the now familiar sensation of trying to think about things that are so much bigger than himself. 

“So you're my ancestor?” He asks, uncertainty and dread mingling in his gut. There’s something terrifying about speaking to history, or dreaming about ghosts. The fact that this is probably only a small part of Minerva’s power crosses his mind and sends a shiver down his spine. Ezio hums an affirmative.

“Yes. I’m contacting you through the Apple as a messenger, I suppose.” He seems a little put out by the idea, restless, as if contacting your future descendant wasn’t cool enough.

“I am supposed to tell you to protect the Apple with your life,” 

As he reaches the end of sentence Ezio begins to glitch, just as Minerva had and Desmond feels his breathing quicken, remembering the suffocating feeling of the first time it happened. Instinctively, he reaches forward and wraps his hand around Ezio’s wrist. Trying to ground him, to keep him present.

“And she said to watch out for Abstergo.” Ezio says. 

His teeth are gritted with the effort of fighting off the glitch, his hand wrapping around Desmond’s arm in a parody of their earlier greeting. Desmond tries not to flinch at the strength of his grip.

“Be careful, Desmond.” Ezio says, his grip tightening before he lets go all together. Almost immediately the world around them starts to fade. This time Desmond doesn’t run. He stands his ground and looks into Ezio’s eyes until his ancestor fades away too.

For a terrifying moment he’s left there, suspended in the black, then he wakes up. 

* * *

Desmond’s barely awake when he starts moving on instinct. Unlike the previous times, this urge is entirely his own. It’s grounded in muscle memory and honed to a finer point over the last week. He phones Rebecca. 

She answers on the third ring, voice rough with sleep and there’s again a hot flash of guilt in Desmond’s chest. Rebecca is loyal to a fault and she’s told him often over the past week she’s not going to let him handle this alone. Still, he sometimes wishes there was a way to ease the strain of it, even though it’s only going to get worse.

“Wassup?” Rebecca’s voice and the rustle of fabric as she sits up in bed interrupts Desmond’s anxious musing. 

Desmond barely suppressed a bark of laughter. Where to start? The fact that he’d just met his ancestor? That Minerva could apparently travel along his timeline? That they now had a name to put to the faceless threat Minerva had warned him about?

His phone slips in his palm, still sweaty from the adrenaline of his dream and Desmond takes a steadying breath. 

“Do you know anything about something called Abstergo?” 

There’s a beat of silence. He can practically hear the cogs in Rebecca’s brain ticking and then she lets out a muffled curse.

“Yeah, I do, actually,” She doesn’t exactly sound happy about it and foreboding wraps its cold fingers around Desmond’s heart.

“Get dressed, I’ll be there to get you in a bit.”

She sighs and Desmond’s confusion only grows. He’s too sleep deprived for this.

“Rebecca, what -“ 

“I’ll explain on the way.” Rebecca talks over him, her voice calm and authoritative in a way that soothes Desmond’s jagged edges. 

“Okay, I’ll be ready.” Desmond assures her, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The nervousness from the dream hasn’t disappeared. In fact, Rebecca’s strange behaviour has only amplified it. Desmond’s whole body thrums with energy. He’s definitely not getting back to sleep any time soon.

* * *

Desmond steps off the front porch into the blue pre-twilight, still unsettled in a way that he can’t shake. When Rebecca pulls up outside, she’s in a similar state, her fingers drumming restlessly against the wheel as she watches him climb in and buckle his seatbelt. There’s an unspoken tension between them, in the line of Rebecca’s shoulders, the iron Desmond can feel creeping up his spine. They don’t often disagree, and they usually do it loudly, but this time Rebecca is hiding something and Desmond’s as unnerved as he is hurt. 

Still, the night ticks on and Rebecca pulls away from the swaying grass and old wood visage of the farm and off towards the city. Desmond knew that was where they were going. Now if only Rebecca would tell him why. 

As if hearing his thoughts she sighs, hands stilling against the wheel.

“We’re going to meet a friend of mine,” she says, as though that explains anything. “We met online actually, same conspiracy forums - you know I find them funny - he’s a bit of a nut for that kind of stuff.” 

“Wow,” Desmond says, in the driest tone he can manage. “Almost nothing in that sentence was encouraging. You’re probably getting catfished by a conspiracy theorist. Seems ironic somehow.” 

Rebecca frowns and slaps him on the arm, but Desmond’s tired and frustrated and the combination makes him grouchy.

“I’m not, we’ve met before… Once.” She shrugs, her eyes flicking to his face and then back out onto the road.

“Mhm, I bet he’s forty years old and hates his mom.” Desmond hypothesizes, mood slightly bolstered by the opportunity to tease Rebecca who in response just huffs and grumbles under her breath.

“You’ll see, he can help us, he’s looked into Abstergo before.” Rebecca lifts her chin, jutting it out stubbornly in the face of Desmond’s disbelief.

The rest of the drive into Sioux Falls is quiet. Both of them are still tired from their interrupted sleep and Desmond quickly falls into a doze, head tilted awkwardly towards the seat. 

He must fall asleep at some point because the next thing he knows Rebecca is shaking him awake. They’re parked on some suburban street a little way down from a white two-storey house with a large tree out front. It’s this house that Rebecca walks towards, as though she’s done it a thousand times. 

Desmond tumbles out of the car, following after her and hissing her name, trying to express both ‘what the fuck is going on’ and ‘I don’t know what you’re doing but stop it right now’ all at once. He keeps this up until they’re standing on the front doorstep, and Rebecca confidently knocks on the front door. There’s the sound of shuffling feet behind the closed door and it opens to reveal a middle aged white woman,who eyes the pair of them with a level of suspicion that makes Desmond pale dramatically. Rebecca, of course, is unphased. She greets the woman with a bright smile.

“Hi,” she says, voice bright and chirpy. “We’re here to see Shaun.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hides in the corner* I know I said there’d be Shaun this chapter and i was planning on it! I guess he’s just shy, next chapter for sure though gang! There’s no escape.
> 
> I now have a dedicated AC blog at fryesbian it’s mostly reblogs with the occasional shaundes or fic related post! 
> 
> Thank you all so much for your patience, kudos, bookmarks and comments. It really brightens my day knowing people are enjoying this fic!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shaun sheds a light on what the future might hold and Abstergo rears its ugly head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as I’m sure you’ve noticed the world has become absolute chaos over the last month, March was about three years long! That said I’m still sorry that it took me so long to get this chapter done, as always a big thanks to [Serv](%E2%80%9C) every time she beta reads a chapter I feel like I learn something new! And to [Boxofrogs](%E2%80%9C) for his continued support and insistence that I keep going. 
> 
> A big big thanks to all my cheerleaders over in the AC tumblr discord it’s such a lovely community I’m glad very to be a part of it!
> 
> And of course, thanks to all of you for reading! Happy 10k, enjoy!

  
The woman blinks at Desmond and Rebecca, surprised, and then frowns in confusion, moving so that she bodily blocks more of the door. 

“I’m sorry,” she says,sounding decidedly not sorry at all. “Who are you exactly?” Her voice raises slightly to carry over the sound of socked feet thumping their way down the stairs. Desmond stutters for a moment and just as Rebecca’s about to open her mouth, a figure appears at the bottom of the stairs. 

He’s short, with gingery-blond hair and a pair of glasses that are sitting askew on his face. The shirt he’s wearing is rumpled like he’s slept in it, there are red sleep lines across his face and a dirty mug is hanging from his right hand. The stranger pauses and turns towards the door, eyes lighting up in recognition. 

“Rebecca?” He says, his voice cracking around his confusion. His clipped English accent sounds nothing like the round vowels of the woman who opened the door but it does make Rebecca's shoulders slump in relief. Turns out Shaun isn’t a forty year old catfish after all. 

“Shaun, heeey.” Rebecca greets him, shooting Desmond a smug look -which he ignores- and flashing an innocent smile at the woman guarding the door. “I was just about to tell Marissa all about that… school project we’ve been working on. Uh, you don’t mind if we stop by for a bit do you? Desmond and I’ve just got a couple things to ask you about.” 

It’s obviously a bold faced lie -Rebecca’s a decent actor, but not that decent- Marissa seems to buy the shit she’s peddling though. She relaxes and steps aside to let them in. Because there’s nothing suspicious about two teens showing up at night to work on a school project, nothing at all.

“Sure,” says Shaun, sounding anything but as he eyes them both. “Come up for a minute. Sorry about this, Marissa, shouldn’t take long.” The last part is directed at the older woman, who rolls her eyes and waves him away up the stairs. 

“Just don’t stay up too late.” She commands, closing the door behind Rebecca and Desmond as they come in. Shaun nods and disappears up the stairs with the pair hot on his heels. 

* * *

Shaun’s room is uncomfortably sterile. There are no posters on the wall, no knick knacks or decorations, his bed has been made with an almost military neatness and his bookshelf is the same, titles arranged by author, most of them school or non-fiction books. The only exception is the desk, which is cluttered with open notebooks, dog-eared books and post-it notes bearing half-finished thoughts and phrases.

“Okay, does someone want to explain what’s going on, preferably in as few words as possible?” Shaun asks snipily as they file into the room. He shoves his glasses up his face as he pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. 

Rebecca and Desmond shuffle awkwardly in front of him. Something about Shaun’s demeanour reminds Desmond of getting sent to the principal's office and he’s suddenly reluctant to speak. Rebecca looks at him, rolls her eyes and shoves him over to sit on Shaun’s bed. Shaun, seemingly unperturbed by this invasion of his space, simply sits heavily in his desk chair, looking askance at them both. 

“Okay,” Rebecca says, she sucks in a deep, fortifying, breath. “Okay, so Desmond and I had an… experience on our trip to Rome.” 

“If you seriously came to my house in the middle of the night to talk about your sex lives, Rebecca-“

“Ew, no! Listen, you’re a big conspiracy nut, right, you believe in weird hidden histories and stuff?” She asks, Shaun is nodding along, his brow is creased with confusion but his eyes are sharp, darting back and forth between them. 

“Well, it’s about that - sort of - and about,” she hisses the next part in a whisper. “Abstergo.”

Shaun’s whole demeanour changes. His eyes widen and he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Since they entered the house Desmond has had the feeling that Shaun and Rebecca actually know each other a lot better than he’d first thought. He can see it now in the way that Shaun’s eyes brush over her, dismissing her as a known quantity, and settle on him. 

Shaun looks Desmond up and down, assessing some invisible quality that only he can see. Then he looks to Rebecca, she nods and Shaun raises an eyebrow, which makes her frown and gestures him to his feet. He gets up from his desk chair with an aggrieved sigh.

“I can’t believe I’m about to do this.” Shaun says he sounds tired and anxious all at once, like a sleep deprived person who’s had too much caffeine. 

* * *

Shaun crosses the room, his steps are sure but his expression wavers nervously as he approaches the built in closet. He looks back uncertainly, hands curled around the handles. 

“I want you both to be very sure you want to see what’s behind this door.” If it weren’t for the grave tone Desmond would laugh. What’s in there, a boogeyman? 

“Stop with the amateur dramatics already, Shaun,” Rebecca says with a roll of her eyes. “I’ve already heard all of your crazy theories, if they didn’t scare me off, neither will this.”

Rebecca’s statement wipes away Desmond’s humorous mood completely. If it’s bad enough that Shaun thinks it would freak Rebecca out, then it’s gotta be serious. She throws herself down mountains for fun, after all.

Shaun ignores Rebecca’s taunting, and opens the doors with spite, pulling down clothes and throwing them onto the bed beside Desmond until the back wall of the closet is entirely exposed. 

“Is that red string? Seriously?” Desmond asks incredulously as he hops up from the bed to look over Shaun’s shoulder. He reaches out and plucks at the red spiderweb connecting images and article headlines. Shaun bats his hand away, scowling. 

“Shut up and look.” He huffs, and the two of them turn their eyes to the mass of paper and string that makes up the back of the closet.

The conspiracy board is kind of intimidating, to be honest. Just looking at it Desmond can see the hours of work poured in, the late nights Shaun probably spent at his desk, reading and researching and agonising over everything in front of them.

There’s so much information to take in that it’s making his head hurt, bold headlines reading things like “Chemical Leak Pollutes Lake” and “Abstergo Multi Corporation Expands” and “Missing Girl Potentially Linked to Abstergo?”. All of them are connected with red string to a photo of the New York skyline with text underneath reading: “ABSTERGO NEW YORK”. 

Shaun starts explaining something, but Desmond can’t hear him. His ears are ringing and the back of the closet is starting to swim before his eyes.

He has just enough time to think _fuck, not this again_ before the world fades away. 

* * *

“Oh,” says Shaun. “He fainted.”

Rebecca groans. “Not again.” 

Shaun looks at her, perplexed, and then moves to crouch at Desmond’s side. He runs a gentle hand through Desmond’s hair to check for injuries and checks his breathing. 

“He’s not injured, at least. Can you help me move him to the bed?” 

Rebecca nods and moves to stand opposite Shaun. Together, they pull a worryingly limp Desmond to his feet and lay him across Shaun’s bed. Then they turn back to Shaun’s conspiracy board. 

“You know, I was going to ask earlier, but why are you interested in this all of a sudden?” Shaun turns to her, his eyes darting across her face almost nervously. It’s sort of funny, how shy and secretive Shaun is about things like this, his interests, his joys. Funny and kind of sad.

“I was always interested.” Rebecca says. It’s the truth, after all. She thought he was smart and his theories were interesting, even if they had seemed sort of ridiculous. They sure seemed less ridiculous now.

“Really? I thought you were mostly listening just to be polite.”

“No one’s that polite.” She huffs a laugh, and Shaun mock frowns at her. Something about him settles her nerves, the things before them -whatever they are- seem less daunting with him at their backs. 

Shaun shoves her lightly in the shoulder and Rebecca shoves him back before the mood turns serious once again.

“Desmond and I found… an artifact, I guess, in Rome and he says it might be linked to Abstergo.” She explains sotto voce, as though even now someone might be listening. Maybe Shaun’s paranoia is starting to rub off on her.

“And you believe him?” He asks. 

“Totally.”

“He doesn’t seem like the most stable person.” Shaun casts a glance at the unconscious figure on his bed. 

“I trust him with my life, Shaun.” Rebecca can’t help but insist. Desmond has been with her through a lot, he’d helped her through things she wouldn’t have made it through alone. This was just returning the favour. 

“Alright,” he says, gearing himself up. ”Alright. Let’s-” 

They’re interrupted by the sound of a knock on the front door downstairs. A solid _rap, rap, rap_ on hardwood. 

“Friend of yours?” Shaun asks, and Rebecca shakes her head, suddenly mute with terror. The two of them strain to listen to the conversation downstairs. 

“Good evening ma'am,”

“Hello, I’m sorry, can I help you with something? I don’t mean to be rude, it’s just that it’s getting late.” Marissa’s voice carries up the stairs, sounding nervous and tired.

“Of course, I understand, but if I can steal a moment of your time. I’m with Abstergo Industries and the exchange student you are hosting -I believe his name is Shaun- well, we need to have a discussion with him.”

Shaun turns to Rebecca, his eyes wide and frightened ehind his glasses. 

“Shit.” He says. 

Rebecca couldn’t agree more. 

* * *

Desmond opens his eyes and sits up, shaking off the lingering vertigo. He’s starting to get used to this dream thing. There’s another man. This one is pacing back and forth like a trapped lion. His shoulders are wider than Ezio’s and his hair is long and tied back from his face. He catches sight of Desmond and starts forward, approaching him with urgency. 

“It’s in New York!” He says frantically, clutching Desmond’s shoulders and lifting him to his feet.

“Uh what?”

“A cave, a vault, that should never be opened.” He says returning to his pacing.

“It’s already too late, the Templar’s are there.” He sighs, and just like Ezio he seems old, weighed down by a life of tragedy and horror. 

“They need energy, the machines within the vault need a power source. You must get there and you must stop them! Desmond? Do you understand?”

“How do you know my name?” Desmond asks, feeling a chill wash over him under the strangers knowing gaze. 

“The same way that you know mine.”

“Connor,” Desmond says, though the name feels strange and foreign on his tongue. The man before him inclines his head in acknowledgement , his dark eyes warm and gentle. 

“Ratonhnhakè:ton.” Desmond says, and that feels right, like the name is carved into his bones, heavy and whole. 

“Yes,” says Connor, Ratonhnhakè:ton. Both. His face is hardened, like a weathered soldier’s, the pressed line of his mouth speaks of resignation. 

“Good luck, Desmond Miles, you will need it.” And with that he reaches forward, clasping Desmond’s forearm just as Ezio had. Then the dream, the vision, whatever it is, starts to fade.

* * *

When Desmond wakes Rebecca is shaking him and Shaun is stuffing clothes from his bed and drawers into a duffel bag, a leather laptop bag already strung across his chest.

They look frantic, and desperately pleased to see him awake. The back of the closet has been stripped bare and the loose papers now sticking out of Shaun’s bag, which he zips and hefts onto his shoulder.

“Off we go.” He says, as though that makes sense. It must do for Rebecca because she moves past him and opens up the window, leaning out to peer down at the street outside Shaun’s house.

“Coast’s clear!” She says, and then levers herself out, climbing over into the branches of the large oak tree, then making her way nimbly to the ground. 

“What the hell?” Desmond is still confused and fuzzy from fainting and his best friend is acting like a lunatic.

“Listen very carefully,” Shaun says quietly, and Desmond gaze snaps to him. “There’s a man from Abstergo downstairs -don’t panic- we can sneak past him, I need you to follow Rebecca, we’re going back to her place to plan our next move.” 

“But, I-” His brain feels like it’s spinning its wheels in the mud. Running from Abstergo and meeting another of his ancestors all in the space of an hour is too much. 

“Desmond,” Shaun rests a hand on his shoulder. “I need you to trust me.” He winces, seemingly aware that Desmond has very little reason to trust him at all. But Shaun seems calm, his eyes are a clear deep brown like damp earth, cool and focused on Desmond’s own. Desmond’s lungs expand as he takes a deep breath of air and he nods. Following Rebecca’s lead, he rises from the bed and heads to the window. Climbing out and dropping to the ground with practised ease. As he walks away, he can hear Shaun cursing and struggling quietly behind him and represses a grin. 

Desmond doesn’t know what they’re going to do from here, but he knows where he’s going. He just hopes Rebecca and Shaun will go along with him on the ride. He’s not strong enough to do it alone. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I’m at Fryesbian on tumblr, and I greatly appreciate every single person who reads and enjoys this fic, I've got about four different projects waiting after tte is done, and although we’re not even close to the end of To The End (haha) I’m excited for what’s to come!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang heads back to Rebecca’s house and a disagreement occurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bitch to write, apparently I handle writing conflict about as well as I handle it in real life! 
> 
> Thanks as always to wonderful Serv who really polished up this chapter!

They drive away from Shaun’s house in silence. Shaun, despite adamantly insisting that Rebecca should not be allowed to drive, is definitely going over the speed limit through the suburban streets of Sioux Falls. His fingers are tapping a staccato beat on the steering wheel. Each impact of a finger on the plastic makes Rebecca flinch and glare. 

For his part, Desmond sits silently in the back, eyeing the other two warily and still trying to sort through his own disorientation after their quick escape from Shaun’s. 

One minute he was looking at Shaun’s CSI-style conspiracy board, the next minute he was being hurried out the house because Abstergo had arrived. Were they there for him? Or for Shaun? How much did Abstergo know about the three of them? How did they find them in the first place? 

His thoughts keep circling the drain even as the bright windows and streetlights of the suburbs fall away into a wide, dark South Dakota night. Desmond barely notices the change until the clicking of the turn signal draws him out of his downward spiral. In the rear view mirror he can see Shaun’s face, set like stone, as he pulls the car over into a lay-by, where they settle still with no one saying a word. It’s like all the words are hanging suspended in the air, and someone has to cut the thread to drop them. 

“So,” says Desmond, working up his courage. “What happened?” 

Just like that, the thread is broken and Rebecca and Shaun both talk at once, rising in volume to try and drown out the other until Desmond can’t hear anything but jumble sounds and stray words. 

“Alright guys,” he says, but they just talk over him, now seemingly half arguing and half shouting at him. “ALRIGHT!” 

The car falls silent once again, Rebecca looks at him wide-eyed. He never shouts at her, it’s a sort of silent pact between them, but he’s confused, frustrated and sleep deprived, and his head is starting to ache. Shaun, for his part, has settled on a flat expression that illustrates perfectly how unimpressed he is.

“Now can you explain what happened? Quietly.” Desmond says, sitting back with a slow breath. 

It’s Rebecca who replies, probably because Shaun’s face is twisting up in a mixture of indignation and frustration that, despite not knowing him long, Desmond knows spells trouble. “There’s not much to tell. You looked at Shaun’s weirdo board and then passed out, we moved you to the bed, then some guy from Abstergo showed up and started talking to Shaun’s host mom so we ran.” She shrugs at him with an apologetic look. Desmond just gives her what he hopes is a grateful smile and nods. At least he hadn’t missed much, which means they're all in the same confused boat. Well, not quite.

“I had another dream,” he tells Rebecca, not quite looking at her as he does. It's the second one in less than twenty-four hours since they got back home and so far each dream has just given him more questions than answers and left him exhausted. 

“Ezio again?” Rebecca asks. The orange of the car light casts her in heavy shadows. Desmond shakes his head. He’d been surprised at first by the appearance of another of his ancestors but it seemed that they showed up based on who was the most useful at the time.

“No, a different one, Ratonhnhakè:ton.” He says, pretending not to see the way Shaun’s eyebrows jump up his forehead. 

“He said something about...a vault? And… Templars, in New York?” Desmond adds, voice straining with uncertainty.

Shaun cuts across whatever Rebecca is about to say in response, twisting in the drivers set to look at Desmond wide-eyed. “Templars? What, like the bloody _Knights Templar_?!” He squawks, waving a hand upwards as though in resignation of the world officially losing its marbles.

Desmond just shrugs, feeling muddled and lost. “I suppose,” he mutters, looking to Rebecca whose mouth has formed a hard line of resignation.

“I guess we have to go then.” She says, a steely look in her eyes. Desmond nods even as Shaun lets out another noise like a dying bird.

“Go?! Bloody hell, go where?” He says, still flailing in distress.

“New York.” Rebecca says with a shrug, Shaun’s eyes practically bulge in his head.

“You’re insane, you’re both bloody insane. Can we just hold on for a second while someone explains to me exactly what’s going on!” 

“Shaun,” Rebecca groans, “We don’t have _time_ and we’ve already told most of what we know, what more do you want?”

Shaun rubbed a hand through his hair, fluffing it up in his frustration until he looked like a cat that had been rubbed the wrong way. “It’s not enough,” he argues. “I need more than some vague _maybes_ and _possiblys_.”

“All we have right now are _maybes_ , Shaun.” Desmond says, his anger rising to meet Shaun’s. Rebecca nods her head, arms crossed and seeming immovable.

“We just have to go with what we’ve got.” 

“I’m not _going_ anywhere until I know more.” Shaun says, hand braced across the wheel in emphasis. Desmond scoffs. For all of Shaun’s pretended confidence and reliability, he’s really just as scared as they are, the only difference is that Shaun’s being a coward. Desmond feels strangely disappointed. 

“You asked me to trust you and you can’t even return the favour.” He says in a low voice. The feeling of disappointment sits cold and heavy in his stomach and he’s not sure if it’s with Shaun or with himself for being so easily drawn in. 

“This isn’t about trust,” Shaun snaps, turning in his seat to glare hotly at Desmond. 

“Sure seems like it to me.” Desmond says, shrugging and turning his glare to the dark night outside. 

If anything, the dismissal seems to rankle Shaun further. Out of the corner of his eye Desmond watches him rear back like a viper about to spit venom.

It’s Rebecca’s hand on his shoulder that reels Shaun in. “Can we just get to my house and we can argue later?” She says, voice as cool and unyielding as iron. Shaun blinks and seems to fall back into himself, suddenly reminded that they’re sitting at the side of the road in the dark. Desmond winces, and raises his hand in an awkward gesture. 

“Actually, can we stop at mine first? I need to grab some stuff.” He says, pretending not to hear Shaun’s gusty sigh as he turns back onto the road. 

* * *

When Desmond slips quietly through the front door William is waiting, his face illuminated in the blue glow of his laptop screen. He rises from his chair as Desmond shuts the door behind him.

“I told you I was hanging out with Rebecca, you can’t be mad at me.” He says warily, heading that particular argument off at the pass. It wasn’t like Desmond slipped off into the night often, but god forbid he didn't notify his dad of where he was and who he was with twenty-four seven. 

“I’m not mad, Desmond.” William sighs. He sounds exasperated, which is annoyingly familiar. It’s like Desmond somehow disappoints him as soon as he opens his mouth. 

“Okay, great! So, I’m, uh, just going to head upstairs then, g’night.” Desmond moves to do just that, his body feeling like a live wire, heartbeat pounding in his chest.

“Wait,” William says, and Desmond knows he is going to die. Either his dad will kill him or his heart will burst from the tension.

“I know that you’re leaving.” His Dad says, and Desmond has to turn to gape at him. How could he possibly know _that_? Before he can bombard him with questions, William raises his hand, stopping Desmond in his tracks like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming car.

“I also know I can’t stop you.” William suddenly ages before Desmond’s eyes, his shoulders sag and the lines around his eyes suddenly seem more pronounced. Even as Desmond notices, he can see his dad pulling himself back together, fixing his posture and settling into his usual cold mask.

“Right,” Desmond nods, several times just for good measure, before he steals himself.

“I have to do this, dad. I don’t know how long it will take, or what exactly I have to do, but I know it has to be done.” Even as he says the words Desmond knows them to be true. Since this whole thing began he feels like he’s been stumbling around in the dark, but at least he’s stumbling forward and he has got to keep going. 

“And I know I’m coming back.” He adds, and there’s a flash of unidentifiable emotion across his dad’s face, there and then quickly squashed, as though it had surprised William enough to slip through. Still, his dad steps forward and puts his hand on Desmond’s shoulder.

“We’ll be waiting, your mother and I.” He says, and Desmond leans briefly into the comforting weight. He pulls away and speeds up the stairs, taking them with a renewed sense of urgency. 

William calls out for a last time, his face shadowy in the half-light of the kitchen, looking up at Desmond on the top of the stairs.

“I’m proud of you,” He says, and there’s something raw and desperate in it, like he needs Desmond to believe him. “Good luck.”

Desmond nods, unable to speak around the lump in his throat and turns to escape to his room.

* * *

When he comes back downstairs with the Apple and a rucksack full of clothes and supplies, William is nowhere to be seen. 

* * *

They arrive at Rebecca’s house in silence, unlike before, where the tension was thick and cloying. As they get out of the car and gather their bags, there’s a sense of exhaustion more than anything else. It’s like going out onto the farm after a storm, when the world has finished rioting and all that’s left is stillness and the smell of the earth after rain. They gather in Rebecca’s room, too shaken by the appearance of Abstergo to go too far apart. 

Rebecca decrees her bed big enough for three and throws herself comfortably in the middle, leaving Shaun and Desmond to lie top-to-tail on her left and right, the Apple and their bags left at the bottom of the bed. Of course, Rebecca falls asleep almost immediately - because she’s never done Desmond any favours when it comes to things he wants to avoid - leaving him and Shaun, lying with her feet between their heads as they look up at the dark roof in silence. 

Desmond sighs and rolls out of bed, retrieving the Apple from his bag. It glows an eerie yellow in the dark of Rebecca’s bedroom and touching it makes the tips of his fingers tingle. 

His thoughts race as he climbs back into bed, of how best to get Shaun to believe him, of what they’re going to do if he doesn’t, of tomorrow morning and the looming threat of Abstergo. The room is quiet aside from Rebecca’s rhythmic breathing and the rustle of Shaun moving to watch Desmond as he slides back under the covers. 

The Apple illuminates them both in its glow. Shaun looks softer without his glasses, like he’s had a layer of his armour stripped back.Despite that, his eyes are still sharp and they roam over Desmond’s face before settling a scrutinising gaze on the Apple. 

“What is it?” He asks in a hushed whisper, brown eyes shining with the golden light.

“It’s called the Apple, and uh, actually I’m not really sure what it does. When I first touched it, it made me pass out like at your house.” Desmond says, voice equally soft so as not to disturb Rebecca. 

Shaun nods, brow wrinkled with something that Desmond optimistically wants to call concern. “The artifact Rebecca mentioned. Have you had any other fainting spells?” The tilt of his left eyebrow is sardonic. Clearly he is deeply amused by painting Desmond as a delicate maiden. 

Desmond just shakes his head, “Usually they come with - dreams? I guess, when I need to know something.” Shaun really does look concerned at that, shuffling around in the bed so he can fix Desmond with his full attention. He looks at him for a moment, and the silence stretches long and thin between them. 

Then Shaun sighs just as Desmond says “I’m sorry-“ 

“No that’s okay you -“ Shaun starts. 

“You go first -“ Their voices overlap and they fall into silence once again. 

With a deep breath Desmond plows forward. “I really am sorry though. You were kind of right, we were asking you to take a lot on faith.” He shrugs, not daring to look at Shaun and see any trace of that same anger on his face. 

He’s answered by the susurration of Shaun’s hair against the pillow as he shakes his head. “No, no, I was being belligerent,” he says, following it up with a sigh like the releasing of pressure from a valve. “It’s just, all of this, it’s a lot to take in. I mean, Abstergo came to my house, now we’re going to New York and I can’t even tell my actual mother anything because she’s all the way back in England.” 

Desmond wants to say something, to ask Shaun about his family, his life as an exchange student. He suddenly painfully wishes that they met under different -normal- circumstances. That they could have this conversation somewhere else, some other time, instead of in his best friend's bedroom the night before they leave their lives behind. 

“Still, I didn’t think that you and Rebecca have been going through much the same. I’ll come with you. As far as you need me to go.” Shaun says, and it sounds like an oath, like a swearing of fealty. 

“Great,” says a grumpy voice from the top of the bed. “Now that we’ve got that sorted can we all go the fuck to sleep.” Rebecca huffs, and Desmond muffles a laugh in his pillow, tucking the Apple beneath it and closing his eyes to the sound of Rebecca and Shaun exchanging sarcastic remarks. 

Tomorrow their lives will change, but for now there’s just the three of them and the warm feeling of comfort in Desmond’s chest. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading, commenting and kudos-ing, it brings me so much joy to see people enjoying this fic and I hope it brings you some joy in these difficult times! 
> 
> As always, you can find me at fryesbian for my AC tumblr and [flightlesskiwi](%E2%80%9C) for my main blog.


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